Torah from JTS Bo 5770

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Between the Lines – Bo
Weekly Midrash Learning with Rabbi Andy Shugerman
Exodus Rabbah 15:12
ד"א ‏(שמות י ( החדש הזה לכם ר"מ אומר לי ולכם היא ה ג א ו ל ה כ ב י כ ו ל א נ י נ פ ד י ת י
ע מ כ ם ש נ א'‏ ‏(ש מ ו א ל ב'‏ ז)‏ א ש ר פ ד י ת ל ך מ מ צ ר י ם ג ו י ם ו א ל ה י ו.‏ ו ק ב ע ו ה ח ד ש ה ז ה ל י
ו ל כ ם ש א נ י ר ו א ה ד ם ה פ ס ח ו מ כ פ ר ע ל י כ ם ש נ א מ ר ‏(ש מ ו ת י ד ב ר ו א ל כ ל ע ד ת ב נ י
ישראל.‏ ותהא שמחתכם שלימה אפילו מי שהוא עני.‏
(
Another explanation of “This month shall mark for you . . .(Exod. 12:2)”: R. Meir said: [It is as
if God says that] ‘the redemption is for Me and for you’; as if to say: ‘I have been ransomed
with you,’ as it is said: “Whom You ransomed for Yourself out of Egypt—the nations—with
their God.” (2 Sam. 7:23) ‘Affix this month for Me and for you, because I will see therein the
blood of the Passover and will make atonement for you,’ as [the next verse] says: “Speak to
the entire community of Israel . . .(Exod. 12:3)” ‘May your joy be complete and include even
the poor.’
When a midrash like the one above seems to make extraordinary claims, like God’s need to
redeem God’s own self from Egypt along with the Israelites, as though both were enslaved
there, one must examine closely both what the midrash describes and how it arrives at its
interpretation. In this case, Rabbi Meir applies a close literary lens to two seemingly superfluous
terms—lakhem (“for you all”) and kol (“all [of Israel]”) —in order to convey a fuller sense of what
redemption from Egyptian slavery truly entails. Rabbi Meir challenges the plain sense of both
terms, asserting that these words convey a redemptive message of utmost inclusivity: even God
and the poor, the most and least powerful actors in this narrative, must take part in the Passover
ritual.
What exactly is redemption? There are two main definitions for this English word. On the one
hand, the term signifies the act of saving or being saved from some negative state, like evil or
sin. This is the meaning of geulah, the first term that Rabbi Meir uses. On the other hand,
redemption can also mean gaining or regaining possession of something through an exchange,
as with a ransom. That is one common understanding of the p-d-h Hebrew root, which Rabbi
Meir employs to demonstrate first the semantic range of redemption and then the dual nature of
God’s redemptive act. That concept of mutuality hinges on a clever play on words.
In order to appreciate how Rabbi Meir transforms his source material, one must read the verse
he quotes (2 Samuel 7:23) in its entirety:
And who is like Your people Israel, a unique nation on earth, whom God went and
redeemed as His people, winning renown for Himself and doing great and marvelous deeds
for them and for Your land—driving out nations and their gods before Your people, whom
You redeemed for Yourself from Egypt.
Instead of reading the term elohav as a reference to “their gods,” Rabbi Meir rereads this term
as “its God”—meaning the God of Israel, as reflected in the midrash above. According to this
reading, God becomes both the subject and the object of redemption. The next statement
makes an even more radical claim: that future Passover sacrifices will atone for God's role in the
suffering that Israel endured in Egypt as part of the divine plan for making Abraham’s
descendants into a nation. That interpretation requires, though, that Israel must include all
members of its community, as we must embrace all of our spiritual kindred to reenact the way in
which God took part in our redemption.
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Torah from JTS
Parashat Bo
Exodus 10:1–13:16
January 23, 2010
8 Shevat 5770
Parashah Commentary
This week's commentary was written by Rabbi Burton L. Visotzky,
Appleman Professor of Midrash and Interreligious Studies, JTS.
This devar Torah is about religion, politics, and war. We are a country currently fighting
two foreign wars (Iraq and Afghanistan) and a war on terror at home and abroad. My
intention is not to tilt Republican or Democrat; rather, the point of these words of Torah
is to reflect on what it means to be Jewish under these circumstances. Or to ask in the
classic rabbinic formulation: what can this week's Torah portion teach us?
Over the past couple of weeks, we've followed Moses from his infancy in a basket to his
youth in Pharaoh's court, to his exile among the Midianites, to his return to Pharaoh's
court—this time as a foreign diplomat. There is no ignoring the simple fact that Moses
and Aaron are negotiating with a head of state, as emissaries of the King or the King of
Kings (the Blessed Holy One) on behalf of a people enslaved—a workforce vital to the
Egyptian economy. It doesn't matter where in this country you read the story, North or
South; the freeing of the slaves should resonate as Jewish history, to be sure, but also
as American history. That latter example of slavery still reverberates in our prejudices,
economics theories, feelings about "states' rights," and the like.
I raise the Civil War as an example because I believe it quite natural for citizens of this
country to see parallels between the history of the United States and our biblical
salvation history. The interweaving of the two great narratives of religious people in this
country—as citizens and as Bible readers—has powered our self-definition since the
days of our founding fathers. I want to carry that tradition forward today as we observe
Moses in Egypt. While Pharaoh will not know it until the end of this week's portion,
Moses is actually representing the most powerful military force on earth. In his
diplomatic mission, Moses quite literally carries his famous "big stick" in hand. That
stick will beat down the Egyptians, whether devouring their serpents or splitting the sea
(but that's next week's portion). As President Theodore Roosevelt said it, "Speak softly
and carry a big stick; you will go far." Moses spoke slowly, if not softly.
In this week's Torah reading, Moses speaks on God's behalf to deliver domestic policy
legislation. Not health care or economics (we will have to wait until the portion called
Mishpatim, three weeks from now, to read Jewish social welfare law), but legislation
declaring a Memorial Day, immigration law, a national service act, taxation regulation,
and even a national ID policy. And all of the domestic laws enacted in this week's Torah
reading are directly tied to the big event of the week's reading, which is certainly related
to war and foreign policy.

Let me unpack these generalizations a bit. The war is God's war on Pharaoh and the
Egyptians in order to free the Jews from enslavement. We begin our Torah reading in
the middle of the battle, seven plagues already having been unleashed last week. Many
rabbinic midrashim liken the plagues to the tactical weapons of the Roman (or later,
Christian or Muslim) armies. If we are not yet clear that this is war Moses is engaged in,
next week during the Song of the Sea we will sing, "Adonai is a Warrior."
The social policies I mentioned are from this week's Torah reading: Memorial Day is, in
fact, Passover. Exodus 12:14 commands, "This day shall be a memorial, you shall
celebrate it as a festival to Adonai throughout your generations." As for those other
domestic laws mentioned above, let's review: Immigration policy might be seen in
Exodus 12:49: "There shall be one law for the citizen and for the stranger who dwells
among you." National service? Read Exodus 13:1: "Consecrate to Me the firstborn of
every womb among the Israelites; whether of man or of beast, they are Mine." Our
rabbis teach us that before there was priesthood (kohanim) the firstborn were drafted
into God's service. To this day we observe the custom of redeeming the firstborn child
from that service (pidyon haben). There actually was a time in US history when one
could pay to be redeemed from military service; Michael Sandel has an illuminating
discussion of the ethics of the practice in his recent book Justice: What's the Right
Thing to Do?
Taxes are right there in the same passage. God not only claims service from firstborn
children, God taxes the Israelites their firstborn cattle. Later, we'll see that the Israelites'
crops are taxed as well: first fruits and grains for God, gleanings and leavings of the
field for God's poor. Let's not forget the commandment for a Jewish ID system. No, I'm
not talking about circumcision (even though it's mentioned in this week's portion at
Exodus 12:43–48), primarily because that particular Jewish marking is usually not
visible. But the portion commands that we Jews mark our doorposts (mezuzah) at
Exodus 12:24; and wear tefillin (in the final verse of this week's Torah reading).
I freely admit that all of these rituals don't sound like domestic policy regulation to us,
but they certainly did to the fledgling nation of Israel. With our American ethos of the
separation of church and state (which is a very good thing); we often fail to see how our
ancestors imagined politics and religion to be two complementary manifestations of
national identity-as do most other nations of the world today. Which brings me back to
war, foreign policy, and what the Torah may teach us.
Diplomacy (speaking softly) carries little sway without a willingness to wield the big
stick. Moses has no success with Pharaoh through moral suasion. Pharaoh is disdainful
of God, and of Moses and the Israelites, until the plagues start raining down upon him.
Only God's big stick gives Moses the ability to bargain with Pharaoh. As in the case of
Pharaoh and others after him—we cannot read this story without hearing the words of
the Passover Haggadah, "in every generation they rose up against us to destroy us"—
there were times in Jewish history when military might was called for to ensure the
survival of the Jewish people.
But the Torah also teaches us that diplomacy must also be part of our national
narrative. In Deuteronomy 20:10–12, God commands that we always first offer terms of
peace. Only if peace is rejected by an overt act of war may we take up arms against our
enemies. This commandment gave rise to "just war" theory, which has been pursued by
governments from the time of Maimonides to our current American administration.
Soon we will gather around our televisions for that rite we call the State of the Union. It
is our obligation as Americans to listen with care to what our president reports, whether
we agree or disagree. This week's Torah reading teaches us also to listen as Jews.
The publication and distribution of the JTS Commentary are made possible by a generous grant
from Rita Dee and Harold (z”l) Hassenfeld.
Taste of Torah
A Comment on Ramban by Rabbi Matthew Berkowitz
Exodus 12:1–2 The Lord said to Moses and Aaron in the land of Egypt: this
month will mark for you the beginning of the months; it will be the first of the
months of the year for you.
Ramban, “this month will mark for you the beginning of the months,” This
order of the counting of the months is not in regard to the years, for the beginning
of our years is from Tishrei, the seventh month . . . If so, when we call the month
of Nisan the first of the months and Tishrei the seventh, the meaning is “the first
month of the redemption” and “the seventh month from the redemption.” This is
the meaning of the expression “it will be the first of the months of the year for
you,” meaning that it is not the first in regard to the year but it is the first “for you”;
in other words, it is called “the first” for the purpose of remembering our
redemption.
The first of Tishrei, commonly known as Rosh Hashanah, is celebrated in the
Jewish community as the “official” New Year. Parashat Bo, however, undermines
this traditional understanding. At the beginning of Exodus 12, God speaks to
Moses and Aaron and declares that the month of Nisan, in which Passover
occurs, “will mark for you the beginning of the months.” And if that weren’t enough
to confuse us, the Mishnah teaches, not only are there two New Years, but there
are actually four. Mishnah Rosh Hashanah 1:1 explains that the first of Nisan is
the New Year for kings and festivals; the first of Elul is the New Year for tithing of
animals; the first of Tishrei is the New Year for years; and the fifteenth of Shevat
(coming up) is the New Year for trees. How do we reconcile the Torah’s teaching
of Nisan as the beginning of the biblical year with the common understanding of
Rosh Hashanah, Tishrei, as the start of the annual cycle?
Ramban contends that in order to understand the biblical commandment, which is
the first given to the Israelite nation, emphasis must be placed on lakhem (for
you). Ramban, sensitively, explains that Nisan represents the first month in
celebration of the Israelite redemption from Egypt. It is a month that marks the
beginning of the year for the Jewish people as it marks the pivotal event of yetziat
Mitzrayim. And so, it is the beginning of the counting of the years for you. In other
words, Torah recognizes Nisan as the particular new year of the Jewish people
throughout the generations. Nisan is bound intimately with the Israelite transition
from slavery to redemption. If Nisan is so central to Jewish identity, why then do
we need Rosh Hashanah?
Nisan and Tishrei represent the poles of the particular and the universal. As
Ramban explains, Nisan is “for you”: it is for the Jewish people in recognition of
their freedom. Tishrei, or Rosh Hashanah, celebrates the birth of the world and
God’s Kingship—clearly more universal in scope. It is between these two poles
that the modern Jew maneuvers—taking to heart the experience of redemption
while seeing oneself as part and parcel of humanity.
With wishes for a good week and Shabbat Shalom.
The publication and distribution of A Taste of Torah are made possible by a generous grant from
Sam and Marilee Susi.